Snippets [boyxboy and girlxgirl shorts]

You Look Really Tired

Rating: R for Romance, fluffy with minor cursing

Pairing: two guys

Based off of: The four word prompt "You look really tired" (as seen in the title)

Other notes: Decided to go with this one first because it's one of the more tame and gentle pieces of writing I have saved on my computer!

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"You look really tired." I say quietly, wrapping a thin blanket around his shoulders.

"Yeah," He agrees vacantly, "A trip to my parents' house tends to have that effect."

I kiss his cheek softly and rub the back of his hand with my thumb. "Do you want anything to drink?"

He leans into me. "Do we have cocoa?"

"Of course we do, baby." I hum a gentle lullaby as I stand, heading to the kitchen to boil some water.

He came home two days earlier then he said he would. The knowledge that something bad must have happened between him and his family claws at the back of my mind, but I can't bring myself to ask him about it. Despite all their efforts to love their son, Riley's parents have never been very open minded or at all flexible about their views. He thought it was so sweet of them to extend an invitation to the family reunion to him, but obviously things didn't go off so smoothly.

Was it his parents this time, or his grandparents? Could it have been his cousins? It's hard for me to imagine someone our age being as harsh and judgmental as Riley's older relatives, but I suppose it's a possibility.

I bring the two mugs of hot cocoa back into the living room, and I set one on the table beside Riley. "Everything alright in here?"

He just nods, yawns a bit, and take a sip of his hot chocolate.

"How was your drive?" I ask absently, trying to make small talk.

"My uncle called me a faggot." He says quietly, staring into his cup.

My eyes widen slightly, and I scoot closer to him on the couch. "Did he hurt you? Did anyone hurt you? Are you okay?"

He shrugs. "Physically, I guess." He takes another sip.

"Would you like a hug?"

He nods, and I comply, sweeping him into my arms. He exhales contentedly, and I stroke his hair. Our mugs sit on the coffee table forgotten. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Just hold me." He murmurs.

And so I do, as if somehow it will push all of the parts of him that are broken back together.